Best Sorrowing Poems
The ship in the habor on silvery seas
Lay vacant outspread 'neath the glassy moon
Drifting in cold whispers of the night
Like a drunk man shriveled on clasping knees
In the loud echoes of the crawling winds
The brave ship nods its old head
Restless on the empty stage of the bay
When lonely stars bleed their light
On what was once earthly sublimity
Now silence and haunt lingers there
A graveyard of bones and sadness
Beside the desolate harbor
Rustling in the cold distance
Laboring with a haunting melody
That invades me in shivers of night.
Sadness defeats
The happy spaces of my mind
Then your sweet kiss would descend
Oh... your sweet kiss would descend
As a fragrant memory
Thawing the pain
In the frost of my heart.
My soul beckons your presence
But silence became my loyal friend
And Emptiness -
The sorrowing of my hours
That slithers through the night
As the brave ship nods its old head
Crackling and desolate
In silvered breaking waters
'Neath moon's limpid eyes
My hands descend
With crimson buds of April's flowers
To rest upon your tomb
Of eternal silence.
''Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.''
Categories:
sorrowing, death of a friend,
Form:
Free verse
By the early years of that ancient decade, the 70's,
I'd tired of my obstreperous tomboyish games:
kickball with the neighbor kids, sledding in the winter,
desecrating the peacefulness of our street's grave yard
with our bike races, tag, and hide-n-seek.
And I tired too of the pastimes of my season preferred:
chasing siblings with a hose, giggling and gleeful,
swimming at Weed Park,
and my perpetual swinging through those long, sweet sunshiny days
longed for during classes in my school.
Old friends grew up.
Boredom anon crept upon the remnant of my childhood.
At times - through infancy and beyond -
I'd been beset by a feeling of loss
over something not yet sought.
It was something kin to loneliness, but no. . .not that.
More a sense of gloom - a sorrowing for what?
I still don't really know.
Despite the days of inexplicable forlornness,
I grew more and more cavalier
throughout the days that came
between those odd forlorn days
because my old timidity, in fact, had waned. . .
Another face, fairer, appeared.
It waxed and glowed - assured -
until those “days - in- between”
had finally surpassed the melancholy ones.
I learned to stifle monotony and squelch the blues.
I became a "doer" of too many things to name
as I went gliding through with the Gibbous moon.
Soon enough, a fullness had arrived.
And now it must disseminate.
In the years to come, I'll be wondering this. . .
Will the shining face I show the world wane too,
and will my youth's strange darkness re-emerge,
eclipsing what light remains as I drift,
having come full-cycle,
into my final
crescent phase?
5/21/14
Submitted 3/30/16 to PD's Any Poem # 38 Poetry Contest
Categories:
sorrowing, life,
Form:
Free verse
Born To Walk, A Dark Path Of Jagged Stones
Born to walk, a dark path of jagged stones
too oft full of mistakes and ragged moans,
lone flying feather, blown in raging storm
black-hand of death, tis but our aging norm.
Begging for more Time, with sorrowing pleas
doomed within forest of narrowing trees,
searching for some hope, its reckoning halls
forest echoes, with our beckoning calls.
Bereft of light, tumbling as desert weeds
in abject darkness, mumbling out our needs,
forever seeking more, that fleeting dream
yet we live as a lost, retreating team.
We exist, much like constant flying birds.
We resist, hesitant to seek truth's words.
Robert J. Lindley, 4-21-2018
Sonnet, ( The Dark That Holds Its Prey)
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Words: 100
Categories:
sorrowing, art, creation, deep, perspective,
Form:
Sonnet
I knew you from a distant dream
The sweet streams cry out
The dumb rocks perspire with dew
My heart flutters in your comely grace
You're more beautiful than the flower
And more sweeter than the nectar's burst
Your scent lingers like the wild breeze
Your hair escapes thro' the sad light
The blue moon dies on your lips.
Petal threads blew unannounced
It seems like a kiss has touched you
It seems like the fading light
And those wide brown lips trembles
Thro' the twilight songs of sweet lyres
Your words hold a certain sweetness
But my tongue is dumb as the rocks
Dumb to the long drawn kiss of your eyes
To but whisper a simple word
A swooning word of love
Before the morning light may spring
Before your hastening feet retreats
Down the dusty street
Where the fragrance shoots.
I knew you from a distant dream
The strangled notes of the sea
It died, then gave whisper to your name
The stars a laurel to your head
Your scarf on the lantern seas
My heart is clasped against yours
And then it beats soberingly fast
And then it breathes.... slowly
With love's tenderness.
I knew you from a distant dream
The night bled its frost that day
The popular shops shut their eyes
And the busy streets went to sleep
I've sank my eyes upon you
As a roving light humanly divine
Sank upon the half black earth.
I want you like the round plump grapes
That wavers in winters seasonal bloom
When the stars would rise and fall
On the quivered slender hues
Parked lightly on the bench.
There's a flame that does exist
It burns sweetly upon my dreams
There's a pulsating joy you draw
From the roots of my sorrowing heart
But I in this cold wide earth clung
To your cinnamon lips
And in your pleasant arms
Wide awake
Only to die again.
Categories:
sorrowing, dream, imagery, romantic,
Form:
Free verse
The sweet bells hung upon the soft woven air
The streams in recite and the cold plucked tear
From your pure brown eyes, softly as you wept
As the tides draw nigh and then you crept
Into pleasurable my arms, my shy sweet rose
Sobered on my swooning breast and as close
As the purpl'd flowers among slender leaves
Buried upon earths golden rest and then these
Amorous eyelids aglow with night and beams
Would in trembling passion praise your being
As if surrender'd to a magnificent glow
That the celestial stars has lipped below
As tho' embers of God's sacred light proceeding
Had embalm'd your form in sweet holiness
As tho' the love light of Venus warmly kissed
Your divine royalty, your apple plumm'd lips
As a sacred adornment, jewel'd to this world
To silhouette my heart with love's nectar'd beam
That dissolves reality into an enchanted dream
As desires erupt, with love's most flight'd wings
To purge swift this heart that tightly clings
To the sorrowing days of love's defeat
In tears and in anguish obsolete
But with sacred charms, splendored as a rose
Like Zephyr winds of harmony, my lover blows
Love, peace, joy and passion's flame
Yet love became a fire, when you recite my name.
Categories:
sorrowing, imagery, romantic,
Form:
Rhyme
Sweet are the verses in rhymes that are sung
that genius the mind in history does crown
Blank white pages with divinity and splendor
Stoned face, haunting or dark and yet tender.
With celestial visions charmed as they be
Will but lighten our hearts with a spirit free
With the streaming pulse of unwavering joy
With crystal enlightenment, this is our ploy -
That our names would lie in history's book
That eternal we'll be remembered, but look
There's a poet clasped on the mighty wind
Where the perfumed blossoms softly bend
In sweet sighs like deep breaths, to blend
With rippling streams in murmurs and then
There his solitude has sought no fame
Among the throngs of mightiest names
Like Byron, Elizabeth, Keats and Emily
Like Shakespeare, Poe, Blake and Shelly
But in the warm breath of silence he lays
Where no man may gather and praise
Gifted his glimmered thoughts proceeding
With humility's grace and love exuding
From blessed a heart as pure as the springs
Clasped upon God's wondrous wings.
Oh never lose sight of our earthly treasure
That beyond every carnal soothing pleasure
Is that gleaming gift imparted to us all
That in poetry's grace we may stand tall
In fun or in fame or in dream's pursuit
In practice or in shame or in joys mute
That our pleasured words, we may mute not
Thro' life's sorrowing moments and yet but
Thro' the coursing days of history's lines
How sweet the verses when sung in rhymes.
What does poetry mean to you personally? I'm open to heartfelt expressions to the question.
Categories:
sorrowing, imagery, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
But Honey, Such Sweet Lies That We Both Told
It was a meandering dirty road,
Ah but honey- such sweet lies that were told
About the gold castle upon the hill
And how love always gives sensual thrills
Nary a word about hideous beast
Hiding, awaiting its promised feast
But such you knew, covered with a smile
Hiding so well, your venom and dark guile.
I hear sad tales of your sorrowing woes.
That do not mention your grievous struck blows.
I see, youthful lad with an eager heart
On that winding road, with its cool start
Sailing on seas of romantic delights
Long before the dark truth- endless fights
O' yes, your beauty such a stunning gift
And those ravenous nights - sexual gifts
Even in that dark- pleasures abundant
Do I cry more, such being redundant?
I hear sad tales of your sorrowing woes.
That do not mention your grievous struck blows.
Life in its blazing glory, onward flows
Into that mysterious cloud it goes
You, once a goddess so far out of reach
Before dark world sat us down, both to teach.
R.J. Lindley, first composed in 1979,
Edited 9-09-2021
Categories:
sorrowing, art, lost love, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
Rejected
Defected
A hopeless case
Lost, drifting
Vanished without a trace
Sorrowing, woeful
Mired in despair
Anguished
Frustrated
Tearing out fistfuls of her hair
Lonely, yearning
Trapped in solitude
Hoping for a pitying hand
To raise her up and help her stand
Desperate, on edge
Whirling this way and that
Frantic, caged
Like a hissing wild cat
Untamed, undisciplined
An unbroken horse
No kindness, no softness
Her spirit so unyielding and coarse
Is there any hope for her now?
To whom can she turn?
Who would want this rebel child...?
Who can lure her in from the wilds?
Perhaps there is nothing left for this witch
But the muzzle of a gun,
Pressed to her cheek,
The squeeze of a trigger
So obliging and meek
And the crack of the bullet
Splintering her skull
The closing eyes
The graceful fall
And then...
The bloody bittersweet end of it all
Categories:
sorrowing, angst, death, sad
Form:
Free verse
We live in a romance novel, one with misery and dread
Where thoughts come to perform in our twisted heads
View and suspicion, leaving us dead
A vacant shell of what life we once led
Lost in the shadows, once alone and so cold
Looking for love, weeping for someone to hold
Like roses wandering down to the snow
Lying like blood on the cobble stones
Beneath the darkness of the light moon
I lay and hear a howling tune
Carried to my ear by the sorrowing wind
Listening to it I find I am again
I hear a voice so soft and so sweet
It carries to me a vision of mi petit
My love, my one and only
Kissing you through my dreams, we’ll no longer be lonely
I sleep my life away in the day
So that at night you can come to play
And I will be within your arms
If you will have me as your girl
No longer do I find this story sick
And my life I feel is no more a wreck
With you besides me in my heart
And promising that we’ll never be apart
I say today to whisper here
We live in a romance novel
This time without the tears
Of you and me falling free
I am yours, and you are all I need
Categories:
sorrowing, life, me, romance, life,
Form:
In Ancient Graveyard Of Hidden Poems, Truth Danced
In ancient graveyard of hidden poems, truth danced
Hiding deep, as romance keeps, a girl romanced
I a young man let verses sing as they pranced
Yet folly was true, gambling on love I chanced
Soon knight fallen, through guilty heart I was lanced!
Day and night took turns as my sad soul they burned
As my life wept, inner oceans spun and churned
Growing sick as each dark, crying page was turned
In despair, I tore my hair- feeling love spurned
Now lost -get her back, any cost- I so yearned!
First of many, sorrowing and guilt aplenty
I saw world die, had my cries and turned twenty
Far too blue to work I woke without a penny
With my life destroyed and debts far too many
I begged midnight moon send my loving Jenny!
Dawn's golden light therein so very brightly shone
Paying no heed, fled I to dark woods overgrown
While feeling free, woe was me- nothing did I own
Wicked dreams, came with such nightmarish undertones
Break of day, hills they sway with- my loud aching moans!
In ancient graveyard of hidden poems, truth danced
Hiding deep, as romance keeps, a girl romanced
I a young man let verses sing as they pranced
Yet folly was true, gambling on love I chanced
Soon knight fallen, through guilty heart I was lanced!
Robert J. Lindley, 6-14-2021
Rhyme,
( As The Wind Blew Its Sounding Trumpet )
Note:
Thank YOU, Sam Kauffman for the idea to
think about composing this poem based
upon my comment made in my note given
In my new poem this morn,
**Of The Life, The Great Loss, The Solemn Plea**
" This is from my ancient graveyard of hidden poems."
I went right to it and this new creation I wrote..
Categories:
sorrowing, appreciation, art, creation, heartbroken,
Form:
Rhyme
Like a withered rose laid bitter
on a dark winter with all my petals fell
with the autumn wind.
Will I grieve forever, the loss? Shall it bring back
my life whole again in spring?
Part of me fell apart like a crunchy
autumn leaves and waiting for another
season to sprout the same, after a long
hibernation of sufferings...
in a cold winter nights of sorrowing.
In reality, the grieve was still there,
haunting forever until the season folds,
no matter how hard I rebuild back my life,
the brokenness was still there and
will never be whole again.
But, my spirit will remain withered,
from the painful grief.
A deep scar of sorrow, left my heart,
ripped. How can I move on
to make myself strong? Tell me how...
©aroque
All rights reserved
Categories:
sorrowing, 10th grade, 12th grade,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
He chose a face
that only his mad mother
would love.
He painted a tragedy
upon a crooked grin.
His mask was designed
to mug any real mirth.
His career-path
a honking mockery.
A blundering funster
who picked-up
a badgering prod,
that made it caper, and ha-de-ha
inside distorting mirrors.
When audiences thinned,
he became the dark intermission,
a curtain drawn
over a cloaked smirk.
Now we see him
swaying on street corners,
occasionally cackling,
much crazier now
then his sorrowing mom.
Categories:
sorrowing, poetry,
Form:
Blank verse
Those we love don’t go away.
They walk beside us every day.
I don’t see this as consolation,
for I’d rather they enter the pearly gate.
Nevertheless, do they follow us,
the sorrowing cheek, somehow caress?
Some picture my mom and twin with
manhattans, a cheer of cherry juice.
At first, my nose held floral scents,
a couple whisps in dream accents.
I’d wake up speedily, as Grandma
was surely at the head of my bed.
I believe, when they go, they’re near.
They leave us with comfort, not fear.
Still they must click their heels
on fine streets of gold and meet God.
So, I’m not sold on my dear one,
being near, but rather having fun.
Can you imagine all the beautiful places
and soul after soul to celebrate with?
Yes, I believe they stay long enough to
say goodbye, to dry our tears, to few.
I long to walk beside them every day,
On the brighter side, they won’t go away.
Categories:
sorrowing, hope,
Form:
Rhyme
The council meets, all hours, to hear old batty dames yell, what a *****,
we don't think she's a good person, because she doesn't look and act like us.
The soldier's hall considers, is it fair to wage war on a witch?
She isn't supposed to take up arms, isn't supposed to think about war.
But you, cry in my arms and say, "I wish to be loved, why won't some girl
like me? I'm too fat", you say, and all I can offer is take a walk, eat less.
The mother's brigade is unhappy they have their blessed babes pushed in carriages
and shun the woman unable to have children, just offering to baby sit.
The father's brigade is unhappy to be stuck with the bills or to have a walkout wife
and shun any woman who demands her rights to have opinions and money.
But you, tell me of your lack of money, to eat, to drive, to visit friends
so I send money and delight in the happy tales of movies and dining.
I look across the pattern of life and find the dips and downtrodden and say,
what about artificial families, people who sit with our kids and lunch and help homework?
Cursed be you, you say, you have no children, you offer no aid, and steal
this poem, passing it friend to friend and say, what do you think?
Will it help our children gain confidence to have another adult listen?
Will it help those with no parent to have and adult praise and question?
Is it my age I ask and the answer is yes, this is an age of all too opinionated
people failing to listen to the wind, to the silence, to the dreams, to the crying
taking asking looks at their neighbor saying am I keeping up, has that other
person got ahead? I'll not help them because they aren't needy enough
to offer guidance to those who have no time to look beneath beds, look
beneath the society, beneath the judge's bench and find the better way.
The silent one has taken away the light from your world, taken the song away
from the sorrowing, taken the whip from the brutes, and walked away.
She has a life, she has needs to find out more of the truth of reality
she doesn't like the people she sees always sitting in judgement and never listening
to the wind, the truth, to justice, to the downtrodden, to the lonely, to the unforgiven,
to the beaten, the one that finds her mind her best hidden asset you won't accept.
Categories:
sorrowing, abuse, betrayal, character, children,
Form:
Couplet
Dear Steve,
My vigor is exhausted as a revolutionary with a cause
My spirit is trapped in a dwindling dream
By capitalist creams
Enticing my mental stream
A forgotten face am I in the aftermath of a conscious mutiny
My heart is desolate
For the masses are desperate
And the land no longer intimate
A drought has starved my earth coloured cheeks of sorrowing rain
Supremacy is still fair
Our treasures still there
For their own there’s no care
Inequitable acts have been employed to sack our novelty
My centre rings constantly
For trusting comradery
A forced discipline not hearing me
Aubuti Bantu, a eba fela ele mantswe
Ebile nako ya gago e fetile
Khutso
(Thabiso wa ga Nkoana : 2006)
Categories:
sorrowing, freedom, history, political, tribute,
Form:
Epitaph